When the past comes knocking
by Lenny221B
Summary: When you don't expect something, it doesn't mean it can't happen.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys,**

**so this is my first attempt on a multi-chapter story. I have something already planned in my head, but putting in on the paper might be more difficult. But I'm giving it a try and I hope that so will you. If you like it, please let me know. **

**English isn't my mother tongue so there might be some mistakes. If you find something horrible, don't hesitate to let me know, it'll help me to get better in English :)**

**The first chapter is short, but I had to start somehow. Anyway, enough with my monologue, I hope you like it :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, unfortunately!**

**Chapter 1**

"You know what happened to the other one," Mycroft states coldly, but in reality, his head is full of memories that has haunted him over the years. Blue eyes, black hair, big smile...He immediately stops his mind from producing all these pictures and continues to appear as distant as possible.

* * *

"Oh, for God's sake. Make up your mind. Who needs me this time?" Sherlock asked.

"England," Mycroft said without being able to take his eyes of the monitor in front of him. Moriarty's face saying _Did you miss me_ is enough to make him little bit nervous. How is it possible? He blew his own brain out, it can't be. When he saw the plane, with his brother on board, landing, he felt oddly calm. He took his phone and started acting.

"Find out who did this, immediately. It is the highest priority, I expect you to inform me as soon as you find something. Anything!" he commanded the person on the other side of the line and hung up.

Two hours later, Mycroft received a phone call. "What have you find?" he asked and listened to one of his men. "Prague? Are you certain? Keep me updated." From the frown on Mycroft face it was evident that the problem was bigger than anyone had expected. Sherlock knew best, because last time his brother looked like that was when Sherlock was going through his drug addiction.

"What is it, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"It looks like Moriarty or his men are in Prague." Mycroft's frown was getting more serious with every word he let out of his mouth. When he told Sherlock about Prague, he's no longer the only one with a frown on his face. After a few moments of total silence, Sherlock finally continued with their conversation.

"I don't think that this is the work of Moriarty or one of his companions. First of all, Moriarty blew his own brain out. I was there. Second of all, if it was him, he wouldn't give us any information about his whereabouts." With every sentence, Mycroft looked more and more serious. Sherlock was quite taken aback by this, because all his life, Mycroft had been the king of the ice, the iceman, the man who looks the same whether he's happy or furious. But this was different. "What's wrong, Mycroft?" Sherlock finally asked, now with John and Mary joining them.

"I agree, this is not Moriarty. But for everyone here, it is. This is only between us. Do you understand, Dr. Watson?" he looked at John. "I believe that I don't have to ask you, Mrs. Watson, given your history. I believe you are more than capable of keeping a secret. And you, brother mine," he turned to Sherlock, "this is bigger than you can imagine and I would highly recommend you to keep your distance. Recently, I have come to the conclusion that you are getting sentimental and if it is what I think it is, you should be prepared for getting hurt." After Mycroft's speech, everyone appeared confused. With that, Mycroft left them and got in the car.

During the ride, Mycroft was lost in his thoughts and every scenario he played in his head was pretty bad. Suddenly, his phone beeped. He looked at the display and saw the text from an unknown number.

**_Did you miss me? NH_**

So he was right. This won't be good.

* * *

After Mycroft left, Sherlock, Mary and John decided to return to Baker Street. Even though Sherlock was gone only a few minutes, he was really glad to be home again. He didn't want to admit it, but he couldn't imagine his life without his flat. Everything there formed a part of him and when he had to leave it for two years in order to destroy Moriarty's network, he felt like huge parts of him were missing. So now, when he had to leave again, this time maybe for good, he started to feel incomplete again. He had to admit that the thought of England needing him home felt quite good. But it also meant that Moriarty might be back.

"Mycroft was acting quite strange, do you know why?" John asked Sherlock but he was already in his mind palace, sorting things up. That's why it wasn't surprising that John didn't get any answer. "Sherlock, talk to me," he tried again. This time his effort met with success.

"What John," Sherlock answered, irritated. "I'm trying to think here."

"I was just asking, if you know why was Mycroft acting so strange?" John repeated his question.

"He's Mycroft, presumably because of his diet. He's hungry so he's acting like a pain in the arse."

All of them laughed, but in reality Sherlock was feeling strangely anxious. He didn't know why, but he felt that something will happen real soon.

* * *

Mycroft was sure about what NH in the text stood for, but he didn't want to admit it. If it was really happening, it would affect all people he held dear.

**_Where are you? MH_**

He texted back and waited for the answer. It came few minutes later.

**_London. Don't worry, you'll see me soon enough. NH_**

Mycroft sighed heavily as he read the text. He couldn't believe that it was happening.

**_Stay out of trouble. Don't do anything stupid. I warn you. MH_**

**_Now you care about me not doing anything stupid. How sweet of you. Can't wait to see you again. NH_**

This won't be good, he thought to himself as he closed his eyes and let the memories fill his head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone,**

**thank you for reading. There's a second chapter of my story. If you like it, please let me know in a review or somehow :) **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, unfortunately!**

Sherlock tried to think of an explanation of Mycroft's strange behaviour, but he couldn't think of anything that would make sense. Mycroft agreed that this wasn't Moriarty, but who could it be to affect Mycroft so much? He went through every possibility in his head and nothing made sense, when suddenly he thought of something. In the past, he saw Mycroft acting this way two times. The first time was when he found him with a needle in his arm, without any signs of life. And the second time when…No, he won't be coming back to this time. The time when he decided that sentiment only made you weaker.

"Have you thought of anything yet, Sherlock?" Mary asked to break the silence that was filling the room.

"Not yet, I need more data. I tried to text Mycroft, but he's not answering. I'm going to Bart's, need to speak with Molly."

John looked quite confused. "What has Molly to do with all of this?"

"She did the autopsy of Moriarty's body. I need to be sure that he's out of the picture," Sherlock explained.

"Ok, we're going with you," John said, standing up.

"No, I need to think. You're too distracting right now…" he stated but immediately stopped himself, realising what would the upcoming conversation would be like. "What I meant was that Mary looks tired, it's been a long day and you should go with her and let her rest," he corrected himself to shut John up.

John was about to protest, but Mary took his hand and looked at him. John knew that look very well. It meant _don't try to protest, you're going to lose_. So he didn't protest and let Sherlock go.

When he came to the morgue, Molly was already finishing her shift. As she saw Sherlock entering the morgue, her face lit up. "Sherlock…what…what are you doing here? I mean…shouldn't you be on the plane now?" she mumbled.

"I was, but it looks like England can't exist without me," he smirked.

"It's about Moriarty, isn't it?"

"That's why I'm here. Molly, if I recall correctly and I usually do, I believed that it was you who performed Moriarty's autopsy, right?" he asked.

Molly went back to one of the worst days of her life. The day when she had to convince everyone that Sherlock was dead. "Yeah…it was me…that's why I was quite surprised when I saw it on TV earlier. What's happening, Sherlock?"

"I fear that I don't know, Molly. But I know that if you say that it was Moriarty lying on your autopsy table, it was him. I've come to the conclusion that you're usually right in these kinds of things…"

As Molly was listening to Sherlock's words, she felt her cheeks starting to burn. Was he complimenting her skills? Well, that was new…she smiled as Sherlock continued with his monologue.

"Mycroft's men told him that the video was sent from Prague. We agreed that if it was one of Moriarty's companions, they wouldn't inform us about their whereabouts. That's why I think that whoever did this wanted to let us know who he was. But I can't think of anybody who would fit this scenario."

"And what about Mycroft, doesn't he know anything?" Molly asked.

"I think he does. But he doesn't want me to know." With these words coming from his mouth, the memory he had earlier came back. It made sense. Molly noticed the frown on Sherlock's face.

"You look serious, what's wrong?" she wanted to know.

Sherlock came back to reality and started to act like nothing was happening. "Nothing, I just need more data to solve this thing."

Molly knew he was lying to her. She knew that look on his face. She saw it when he was asking her to fake his death. She saw it when he said she counted. Over the past few years, Molly had changed. She was stronger, because that's how you had to be when you were friend of the only consulting detective in the world. "I know that you're lying, Sherlock. You don't have to tell me anything, but please, don't try to fool me. You can observe lot of things, but I can observe when something's bothering you."

Sherlock was quite surprised by her words. He didn't expect her to say such things. "There are many things you don't know about me, Molly. And it's better that way. I've put you in danger too many times since we met…"

"Sherlock, if you don't want to tell me, then don't. But you know that I'm always here for you if you need me…"

"Thank you," he said and without other word he left the morgue.

* * *

It was three days since everything happened and Mycroft was still feeling little bit anxious. He was British government, for god's sake, and for the first time in his life, he couldn't locate his opponent.

_Having trouble finding me? You're slipping ;) I'll make it easier for you, I'll find you. Covent Garden, 8PM. NH_

As he read the text, he couldn't help but stiffen a bit. His life was full of goldfish and he knew only three people that could keep up with him. His brother, his mother and…NH.

_You can't surprise me, I know you well enough. MH_

_And yet, you didn't see it coming. NH_

Suddenly, the door of his office opened abruptly and his brother entered the room. Mycroft put his phone in his pocket and tried to appear as casual as possible.

"Hello, brother dear. What can I do for you after you've entered the room so nicely…" he greeted him sarcastically.

"You know who did this, don't you?" Sherlock didn't waste any time and came right to the point.

"No, I obviously don't, Sherlock," Mycroft denied.

"Brother, don't forget who you're talking to. I'm Sherlock Holmes and if you think that I haven't noticed the look on your face when I entered the room, you must be crazy. If you were a suspect in the investigation, I would say you're guilty."

"Yes, you're Sherlock Holmes. And I'm Mycroft Holmes and if you think you can read in me like you can read every person around you, then it's you who must be crazy. Brother mine, don't waste my time and let me do my job. Good day," Mycroft said, took his umbrella and left Sherlock standing in his office alone.

* * *

It was 6PM when he came to Covent Garden. He knew that his opponent would find him, that´s why he sat on the bench and waited. In a few minutes he saw a silhouette approaching him. He stood up and felt his heart beat faster.

"Did you miss me?" a voice said. And he stood there unable to say a word. After a while, he finally spoke.

"Why are you putting yourself in such danger?" he asked.

"Danger? It was you who put me in danger many years ago. This…this is far from being dangerous."

"I didn't put you in danger. I saved you," Mycroft defended himself.

"Haven't changed a bit, have you…Mycroft Holmes, still the same. Always right, always in control…"

This conversation was making Mycroft more and more uncomfortable. All those memories were filling his head and he couldn't stop it. He was losing control and it scared him a lot.

"How did you do it? Moriarty's video…" he asked.

"I have my people…"

"And why did you do it?" he continued because he wanted to understand.

"You failed to protect him…again," the voice explained.

"Protect whom?"

"Our brother…obviously." And in that moment, the figure came closer and Mycroft could finally see the blue eyes, black hair and the face he hadn't seen in a long time. The face of his sister. Nareen Victoria Holmes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone,**

**here's another chapter :) If you like it (and even if you don't :)), you can leave a review and make me happy :) Thank you for reading! :)**

* * *

When he saw the face he hadn't seen in a long time, Mycroft couldn't believe his eyes. Last time he saw Nareen, she was 18 years old. Now, ten years later, she was a grown woman and it was something that Mycroft hadn't expected. To be more precise, he hadn't expected to see his sister ever again. And now she was standing right in front of him and for the first time in a really long time, Mycroft was left speechless.

"What's wrong, brother mine? Aren't you happy to see me?" Nareen said, clearly mocking her brother.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her as coldly as possible.

His words clearly irritated her and the previous mocking tone of her voice changed to being more aggressive and distant. "I came back. If you don't mind, I would like to have my old life back."

"If I don't mind…" he said, almost laughing. "Of course, I mind. If you do not remember, my dear sister, you are considered being dead. I don't think it would be such a good idea for anyone to know the truth…" he expressed his opinion which led to Nareen becoming more and more annoyed.

"Mycroft, thank you…really thank you for telling me the story of my life. I know that it'll be a shock for everyone, but I don't intent to live without my family anymore…" she raised her voice.

Mycroft couldn't believe that his sister had become so bold and in his eyes also so stupid. "You can't walk through the doors and say: 'Hello mummy, daddy, Sherlock, I'm alive,' for God's sake," he stated.

"Listen to me, brother. I'm a grown woman; I can make my own decision now. Ten years ago I made a mistake, but you know very well that I would do it again if I had to. I was just protecting the person I loved the most in this world and I don't see why I should suffer even after ten years. Especially now, with Magnussen gone, I don't understand why you are so upset…" Nareen defended herself, but Mycroft still stood his ground.

"What you did ten years ago could have ended badly for you, but I ensured that you had a good life even after what you had done. And why are you bringing up Magnussen?" he asked.

"Don't play games, Mycroft. Magnussen was the only obstacle for me to be able to come back to life," she explained. "With him being dead, there's nothing stopping me from doing it," she said resolutely.

And in that moment, Mycroft realised that she was right, because apart from her, only two people knew her secret. Mycroft and Magnussen, who knew everyone's secrets.

"I want to see our parents and Sherlock," Nareen interrupted Mycroft's thoughts.

"My dearest sister, you are Holmes…so how can you be so incredibly stupid?" Mycroft said, clearly irritated. "You can't just go back like nothing happened…"

"Why not?" Nareen asked. In that moment, Mycroft couldn't hold himself any longer. "You killed a man, for God's sake!" he snapped at her.

"You know how it was, Mycroft. It wasn't something I enjoyed…" she almost shouted.

"That doesn't change the fact that it happened…" Mycroft said more calmly.

"It doesn't…but if it was me in that position, you two would have done the same for me…You know what, Mikey," Nareen said, mocking him, "I'll contact Sherlock myself. He knows what it means being dead to the world, he'll understand. I'll be discrete, don't worry," she said and left Mycroft standing there alone. And deep down he knew that everything she said was true.

* * *

Two days later, Sherlock was sitting alone in his flat, organising the data he'd got so far. He was clearly missing something. He needed his mind to slow down, because there were so many things in his head that he couldn't think clearly. He needed another case, just to relax. A 5 or 6 would be good enough for now. Another thing was that John was busy taking care of Mary, who was almost at the point of going into labour. And then he remembered Molly's words. I'm always here for you if you need me. He needed her now. He took his phone and started typing the text for his pathologist.

Molly was just in the middle of the paperwork, when her phone beeped with an incoming message. When she looked at the screen and saw Sherlock written on it, her stomach tightened up. It happened every time he texted her. Molly mentally slapped herself for that, because she was a strong woman and acting this way only because she got the text from the man who had been mean to her on numerous occasions, was definitely stupid. _What could he need from me? Well, maybe if you just open the text, you'll find out sooner. _After finishing the conversation inside her head, she actually got round to opening the message.

**_Now that you don't have any ring on your finger, would you like to solve cases with me again? SH_**

She stared at the text for a while and after reading it over and over again, she couldn't believe it. _Why would he want to go on a case with me? He has John…But John's going to be a father pretty soon, that's true…Enough with this mental monologue_, she thought to herself and started typing the reply.

**_Don't you have John for this? MH_**

**_I do, but I don't want the birth of his child standing in the way. SH_**

**_That's quite rude to say…anyway, can't you just solve it by yourself? MH_**

**_I can, but what's the point in doing that, if no one can see me solving it? SH_**

Of course he would need the audience. It's only about his ego, nothing else. But when she thought about it, she enjoyed going on the case with him. Sure, he was pretending she was John back then and she was pretty sure that this time it would be the same…but why not? It would be fun.

**_All right, I'm in. MH_**

**_Excellent, come to Baker Street. SH_**


	4. Chapter 4

When Molly finished the paperwork, she decided it was a good time to finish her shift. She changed and headed to Sherlock's flat. The feeling in her stomach didn't change at all and as she was approaching Baker Street, it was only getting worse. When she stepped in the building, she heard the sound of the violin coming from upstairs. Mrs. Hudson opened the door of her flat and came to greet her.

"Oh, Molly, dear. I'm so glad you're here. Sherlock's clearly having trouble slowing his mind down. Few more minutes and my eardrums would bleed out," she described the situation.

"Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock texted me to help him solve some cases, so I hope the noise would end soon. He's horrible, isn't he?"

"Worse than that. I think that the poor violin of his would rather be thrown against the wall than being tortured like this," she said, making Molly smile sympathetically.

"I'll see if I can make him stop," Molly smiled and went upstairs. When she opened the door, she saw Sherlock in his dressing gown, facing the window and torturing his violin. He didn't hear her entering the flat so when he turned around, he started a bit.

"Oh, hello, Molly. I haven't heard you…," he said, trying to maintain the straight face.

"I can see that," Molly laughed. "And by the way, stop playing the violin or Mrs. Hudson's going to kill you. You can't torture the poor lady like that," she added.

"I can't see how me playing violin could torture her. I am excellent at it," Sherlock said, confused.

"Oh, never mind," Molly smiled. "So, how can I help you, Sherlock?" she asked.

"You can go through my webpage and pick a case. Then I'll decide if it's worth my time and…"

"Our time," Molly corrected him, leaving Sherlock quite taken aback. He wasn't used to someone interrupting his speech, so when she did that, it caught him by surprise.

"Our time, then…And then I'll solve it…um, we'll solve it," he corrected himself immediately after seeing Molly taking a breath to speak again.

"All right. Give me a minute and I'll find us a case then," she smiled at him and headed towards the computer. She typed the address and she found herself going through many incoming messages in which people were trying to convince Sherlock Holmes to take their case.

"Dear Mr. Holmes, I think my husband is cheating on me…" Molly read out loud when Sherlock interrupted her. "BORING…Molly, please, try to shut the feminine side of your personality and focus on more interesting cases!"

Molly blushed and continued going through the messages. "My teddy bear got lost, Mr. Holmes," she read another one and could practically feel him rolling his eyes.

"Next," he said without any other comment.

"Dear Mr. Holmes, my brother is acting like a real pain in the arse. Could you recommend me a good way to get rid of him?!" Molly read, quite shocked by what she saw. Sherlock, on the other hand, stiffened a bit as he heard the message.

"That's quite strange, isn´t it? Asking you for things like that…" Molly commented the message.

"Who's the sender?" he hurried towards the computer.

"I don't know. There are only initials, NH," Molly read. "What's wrong, Sherlock?" she asked, because she could see that something clearly unsettled him. Sherlock didn't answer; he was just staring at the computer with million thoughts in his head.

"Sherlock, what's wrong?" Molly tried again. When she didn't receive any answer, she stood up and headed towards the door.

"Where are you going?" he spoke again.

"Home. If you think that ignoring me is the best way to treat me, then I think there's no point in doing this 'solving crimes together' thing," Molly explained and continued walking.

"Wait. Stay here," he asked her. Molly couldn't resist him, but she didn't want him to keep things from her like this. He deduced it. "Sit down, I'll tell you what's wrong," he said, sadness and nervousness written all over his face. She saw it and decided not to add fuel to the fire. She waited for him to tell her what was on his mind.

"What I'm going to tell you is something that no one knows. Not even John. You have to promise me you're not going to tell anyone about it," he demanded.

"I promise," she stated.

Sherlock sat down and took a deep breath. It was clear that the problem was bigger than Molly could imagine, because she had never seen Sherlock acting this way.

"Ten years ago, as you already know, I was trying to slow my mind with drugs. But that wasn't all of it," he started to relate his past and Molly was listening attentively. "Ten years ago, I became who I am now. Sentiment-proof. I tried to delete most of it from my mind palace, but I have come to the conclusion that not everything can be deleted. I can delete every memory I don't like or need anymore, but that time…that time I got hurt. Not physically, but it hurt more than being shot and bleed internally," he continued. Molly had never seen him this vulnerable. "And because that thing affected my heart and not my mind, I've realised that I'm not able to delete this particular thing." Sherlock took a deep breath, as if he was trying to find the best words. Molly could see the pain. "I lost a sibling back then…," he confessed and left Molly speechless. She had to take a moment to analyse what she'd just heard. After a moment, she came back to reality and finally spoke again. "You mean it was the time when you and Mycroft grew away from one another?" she asked.

"No…it was literally the time when my sibling died," he explained, sadness visible in his every feature. "I had a sister…" Sherlock added.

Molly couldn't believe what she'd just heard. It couldn't be…How come she'd never heard about his sister? It wasn't possible. "How?" she simply asked, unable to find other words.

"Mycroft and I…we had a sister, Nareen. She was the youngest, 7 years younger than me. We were what you might call 'really close'. Mycroft started his career in ruling the world when she was a child and that's why I felt like it was my responsibility to protect her. Mycroft wasn't close to us, ever. It was me and Nareen against the rest of the family…and then, ten years ago, she was dead. And I don't know how, who or what happened, because I was busy getting high," he told her with tears appearing in his eyes. Molly's tears appeared earlier and by the time Sherlock had finished, they were falling down her cheeks.

"Why no one knows about it?" Molly broke the silence, wiping the tears from her face.

"After she died, I wanted a new beginning. I got clean, I started to help Scotland yard with their cases. Mycroft came to the conclusion that it was better not to speak about her again…and somehow, it happened…"

"Wow, Sherlock…I…um… I don't know what to say," Molly said. "But, what got you so upset when I read the message?" she wanted to know.

"The message made me think of her…When we were younger, we used to think of the ways to get rid of Mycroft…and…" he started to explain, but Molly cut in. "The initials…NH…Nareen Holmes?"

"It's not possible…She is dead," he said, convinced.

"Sherlock…I…um, you…"

"No Molly, it's not possible," Sherlock answered her unasked question. But Molly had other opinion.

"Sherlock, you should know better than anyone else that it's possible to fake your death…"

"I said NO, Molly," he raised his voice. "I said she's dead, someone just wants me to believe she's alive."

"Are you going to answer the message?" Molly asked, but Sherlock had already been sitting at the computer, typing.

_There are many ways, but I would prefer to discuss it in private. 221B Baker Street, tomorrow, 6PM, _he wrote and hit send.


End file.
